


Blood In the Marsh

by Alkuna



Series: Lasirah, Warden Of Dawn [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen, Vampire Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:34:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24546994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alkuna/pseuds/Alkuna
Summary: A dark and suspicious rumor draws the vampire hunter, Lasirah, to Morthal. Prodded by her two patrons, Stendarr, God of Justice and Mercy, and Meridia, Daedric Prince of Life, she begins her investigation of a burned out house.... and begins to uncover a deadly conspiracy that will affect the entire town.
Series: Lasirah, Warden Of Dawn [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1774102
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. Chapter 1

Morthal lay on the southern edge of the Drajkmyr marsh: a foreboding area with a tiny town that had clearly been bypassed by the civil war. There were very few things to attract visitors, much less be a tactical advantage for soldiers; there was nothing in the way of a market, no blacksmiths, stables, or shrines. The place sported an alchemy shop, a guardhouse, and an inn. The rest of the buildings were simple homes, with gardens that were tiny and individual to the houses.

Dry ground was hard to come by, and I had the choice of slogging through the murky, stagnant pools of water, or to keep my boots high and dry on the elevated wooden walkways. I preferred the latter. Everywhere else in Skyrim, it was a beautiful, sunny day. But here, a thick fog crawled out of the marsh and undulated around my legs, and ominous, twisted trees could be seen occasionally through the constantly shifting mist that enshrouded the surrounding marsh, giving it a foreboding appearance. The torches of the town were muted to hovering yellow wisps at a distance.

I could see why many would choose to steer clear of the place altogether, but an Argonian had been one of the very few travelers to have visited this place, and had brought a dark and disturbing rumor out of the small town. I hadn’t needed the prodding of my patron Aedra **or** Daedra to bring me to this tiny backwater town, though Stendarr and Meridia both had agreed with me that something sinister was going on.

As I came over the low rise, the source of the scandal was clear; the remains of a house sat on the edge of town, burned timbers reaching above the mist like shattered bones. The destruction was fresh enough for the char to still give off the reek of the fire that had gutted it, even at a distance.

I approached the house cautiously, eyeballing it before waving down a guard. No time like the present to start gathering clues and gossip.

“Pardon me, Guardswoman,” I said politely, “but what’s the deal with the burned down house?”

“That is not a question many will answer,” the guard said plainly. “It's bad luck to talk about that place. People are seeing a pale light drifting about near that building since it burned.” She hurried away, gesturing to herself in a way that made me think she was asking a Divine for protection.

I frowned briefly, then headed for the inn; usually that was the place to catch rumors. The sign at the door proclaimed it to be the Moorside Inn. As my eyes adjusted to the gloom, however, I realized that my pickings were going to be slim; there were only two people inside. One was a fellow Redguard, who had to be the innkeeper, and the other was an Orc, plucking at a lute in a way that indicated he had no idea what the various notes even were, much less how to string them into a song. I winced as the clumsy fellow plucked an out-of-tune string so roughly that it slapped the soundboard, giving a sour metallic note along with the sound of abused wood.

The Redguard woman glowered at the Orc in a way that indicated that this was not the first time he had mistreated his instrument in such a manner. Her mouth opened, probably to make a scathing remark, when the light from the doorway caught her eyes and her expression turned to one of desperate hope as I finished crossing the threshold.

She jumped to her feet eagerly; “Welcome to the Moorside inn! Kick off your boots, and stay awhile. Let me know if there's anything I can help you with.”

I looked around and asked, a little uncertainly; “Um, I take it business is slow, miss… uh...?”

She scoffed a little, “Name’s Jonna. And business, slow? No. It just ain’t there at all. Few enough reasons to pass through Morthal before the war started. Now... Well, let's just say the front door doesn't get much use.”

“Whoa, ouch. My sympathies. Well, I think I’m going to be here for a little while, so I’d like to rent a room and take my meals if I can.”

Jonna perked up as though I’d invited her on a shopping trip to the city of Solitude, “I won’t lie; I take what little business I can git. I'm grateful for anyone willin’ to spend money here.”

I paid for at least a few days stay, plus meals, and the woman set about preparing a room for me. She changed the bedding, brought out fresh furs from storage to make the bed warm, and soon had a simple but delicious smelling meal started in a pot.

I got the feeling that my handful of coins meant she was going to pull out all the stops to make me a happy customer. I took a seat at the bar so I could be sociable, adjusting Dawnbreaker in its sheath so it wouldn’t tangle with the stool.

“What inspired you to run an inn here?” I asked, just to start a conversation.

“Runnin’ an inn weren't my plan,” she confessed with a wry grimace, “But Falion decided to move here, so I joined him.”

“Falion?”

“My brother. We’ve been together since we were young’uns. We move together, see. Keep an eye on each other. That’s the way we’ve always been. Falion has his conjuration work to keep him busy, and I needed somethin’ to do. So, here I am.”

“Here you are,” I agreed.

I had nothing against the school of conjuration on its own. However, it was very dangerous work, and there were things that **could** be conjured that certainly **shouldn’t** be. I paused, then let the subject go. It wasn’t my business, and I had more pressing concerns.>

Switching topics, I asked, “What’s the story behind that burned out house?”

“Hroggar's house?” She paused and leaned against the counter thoughtfully, folding her arms, “Well, it burned down not too long ago. It's a real pity about his wife and kid. The screams woke half the town. Most folk won't go near it now for fear it's cursed.”

_Divines._ I thought in horror. “How did the fire start?”

“Hroggar claims it was a hearth fire.” Her doubtful expression said about how much faith she put in that explanation, and she followed it up with a straightforward, “Some folks say Hroggar started it himself.”

“With his own wife and child inside?” I felt a chill trickle down my spine.

“That's what they say.” Her expression turned bitter, and when she continued, things settled into place in my mind. “See, he's living with Alva now. That started the day after the fire. It ain't right, movin' in with a new love the day after your kin die like that.”

“Let me guess, the guards can’t prove Hroggar did it, and he and Alva deny it when questioned.”

“Aye, you have the right of it. Our Jarl would sure like to know if he did though. Might even pay to find out.”

I bit my lip. Many people who were touched by Sheogorath and became crazy through and through but were largely harmless. One of the more famous stories was about an Argonian who proceeded to dedicate his life to hunting down forks, seeking some sort of legendary artifact hidden among them. But some people touched by Sheogorath went down a much darker path; murder was to them, what making horeshoes was for a blacksmith. But my own experience with these sorts of things said that this was something vastly different and much, much worse.

I needed to be alert, and I needed to be thorough.

I glanced out the high windows and noted that the sun had set, and the already fog-enshrouded town was now almost pitch black. I decided that I would visit the Jarl once the sun came up. Guards would patrol the town at night because they had to; I knew better than to wander around in the dark.

Jonna placed a tankard of mead in front of me, with promises of stew as soon as it was ready. I had just managed a ‘thank you’ when we both heard the inn’s door open over the sound of the Orc’s still tone-deaf plunking.

To my surprise, a Nord woman came in. She was tall and fair skinned. She was also wearing clothing that befit a tavern wench; thin straps of fabric held her dress upon her shoulders, and the neckline was essentially nonexistent. She was completely bare in front from her neck to about mid-breast. It was amazing that her mams didn't pop out of their bare-minimum, semi-transparent coverings to say hello. The corset was laced just enough to provide a bit of support, but clearly had no use other than to enhance her assets. Her hair was shoulder length, straight, and dark… and her eyes were a deep brown-amber that glowed of their own accord.

I choked down my gasp of horror, and it took everything in me not to react. The fact that she walked around without hiding her eyes meant that no one in this backwater town recognized one of the most telling signs of a vampire.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye, taking her in more carefully. Her skin was definitely somewhat pale, but she had also clearly fed, and recently. This had mitigated the withered look that vampires tended to garner; unless they fed very well, they tended to look like a wrinkly old apple about the mouth and eyes, as well as gaunt about the cheeks.

Clearly unused to witnesses in this quiet inn, the vampire didn't so much as glance in my direction as she sashayed her way right up to the counter and leaned on it with a close-mouthed smile. 

_Definitely a new vampire. She knows to hide her fangs, but she’s not canny enough or perceptive enough to be aware of her surroundings or to notice differences; like new patrons. The older ones would have noticed me almost immediately. She’s stupid. Dangerous, but still stupid._ I narrowed my eyes marginally and tracked her with my gaze, taking care not to move too much; I didn’t want to catch her attention just yet.

“Why, good evening Jonna!” the new vampire all but purred, leaning forward so that her melons bulged against the fabric that just barely held them in check.

_What the…?_ I did a tiny double take, my eyes darting from one woman to the other. _Is this woman, this vampire, for real?_

Jonna seemed to know her well enough, but kept her eyes firmly on Alva’s face, and smiled cheerfully, “What can I getcha, Alva?”

Alva’s smile was less friendly, and more predatory. Her voice was almost seductive, and her gaze roved over Jonna’s body as though she was a dessert that Alva very much wanted to gobble up before dinner. “What **can't** you get me, sweetie?”

_Oh, ew. Have a little class there, darlin’._ Whether she was _uthevi ari_ [opposite love], _tatami ari_ [same love] or a _qo ari_ [two love], really didn't matter to me. I was _tatami ari_ myself, but most people preferred less… blatant and inappropriate overtures to the partners they were attracted to. Furthermore, the way my skin crawled, I didn’t think Alva was thinking of anything as innocent as sex.

Jonna was definitely taken aback by the overture, and uncomfortably offered, “Umm... Did you want somethin’ to eat?”

“Eat? No, I don't think I'm... hungry. Not now, at least.” Her gaze said very much otherwise, and Joanna began to look a wee bit trapped.

I chose that moment to clear my throat and pick up the tankard of ale that Jonna had set before me to take a sip.

Alva twitched and turned her head quickly to eye me; first warily, then more avidly. _Ee-yup. This is a vampiric recruiting-through-seduction scheme, and a rather poorly executed one at that._ The thought was scornful and disgusted.

Jonna looked quite relieved that Alva’s attention was elsewhere, because she spoke rather quickly. “Right. Okay, tell me if you change yer mind,” she hustled to the other side of the bar and proceeded to polish a perfectly clean tankard with a white cloth.

Alva, however, now only had eyes for me, “Well, well… aren't you the pretty one. I bet all the men chase after you.” She started to ease toward me.

“Hmm. One or two do, but I don’t chase after them,” I kept my tone light.

Alva’s gaze lit up a wee bit more and she sidled a slightly larger step toward me, “Oh?” She drew the word out, slipping a light lilt into it. “Do you, perhaps, favor the... hmm… fairer sex?”

I pitched my voice to sound sorrowful and a bit wistful, staring down into my tankard as though my thoughts were clouded by grief. “I do. Unfortunately, I’m in mourning.”

“Oh,” much shorter this time, and a drizzle of sympathy entered her voice, “Did you lose someone close to you?”

“My intended.” I allowed my genuine grief to fill my voice and Alva paused and seemed to take stock as I continued, “She was recently;” _fifteen years ago;_ “murdered by a brood of vampires on our wedding night.”

The vampire hastily checked herself and turned a little away from me, bowing her head as if in shared grief, “I’m… so sorry to hear that. My condolences for your loss. Please forgive my intrusion. I will not disturb you further.”

The vampire knew when to make a strategic retreat, and the door closed behind her mere seconds later. I scowled at the last swishing hemline of her dress. _That certainly shut her up, but she’s also going to be wary of me, now._

I shook it off and rubbed my hand over my eyes. It was no surprise that my patrons had pushed me here. Hroggar’s house burned down with his wife and child inside, and not a day later, he shacks up with a vampire. There was only one explanation for that: Vampire Seduction. Hroggar had been enthralled, and probably forced to do the unthinkable at the vampire’s command. It needed to be cast once every twenty four hours; easy enough with poor Hroggar living with the damn bloodsucker. _Gods… I bet I know how she feeds too…_ I shuddered and stared down at my tightly clasped hands. _A quiet little town, right in the middle of nowhere, with almost no one visiting or doing commerce. Small. Easily missed. No one is likely to even notice that it’s been taken by the undead for months, maybe even years. Just like my village..._

There was a soft clunk in front of me and I looked up to see a bowl of stew, and Jonna’s deeply sorrowful face. “I’m so sorry for your loss.”

I gave her a slightly sad smile in return, “Thank you. On the plus side, Stendarr granted me the means to bring his justice upon them.”

She gave my hand a gentle pat; “Easy to say, less easy to feel. M’glad they got what was coming to them, but I know that there are some wounds that just don’t ever fully heal.”

I blew out a breath and nodded, “At least it’s down to an ache, rather than a stab.”

“Well, you tell me if you need to drown your sorrows in a sweetroll or an apple pie, y’hear?” Her expression was just a smidge motherly, which warmed me toward her a little more, and she gave me a knowing wink, “I recommend either of those over alcohol. They bite less in the morning.”

I gave a small chuckle, nodded and ate. The stew was good; seasoned, hot, and filling. As I burrowed under the furs for a good night’s rest, I promised my patrons that I would cleanse this town of the vampire’s presence. Their trickle of satisfaction followed me into the dark comfort of sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Bright and early the next morning, I did a casual saunter through the town to get used to the layout. My explorations turned up a small cemetery tucked behind the inn, on the last available bit of high ground the town had to offer, but not much else. I purchased a few Potions of Cure Disease from the Alchemist shop, and got directions on where to find Hroggar.

He was at the lumber mill, sharpening an axe on a grindstone. When I greeted him, his eyes wouldn’t meet mine, and he mostly just mumbled nervously. “I... I'm not one for talk. I try to keep to myself.”

“I've heard your home burned down,” I offered, sympathetically.

He stopped grinding and turned to face me, but his voice immediately switched from nervous to bland, “That's true, but I'm in a new house now. A better house.”

“What about your wife and child?” I prodded.

“Yeah, that was a shame. I just try to do my job, and not to think about what's happened. Try to find what happiness I can.” I could hear the dull indifference behind his words; _‘Oh darn, I guess we cannot spend the day shopping for dresses due to the rain. What a shame. So sad. Maybe some other time.’_ When Hroggar continued, however, his voice transformed to almost worshipful, “Alva's been good to me ever since... well, since the fire. She takes care of me, and I take care of her.”

The poor man was definitely enthralled, and his fawning words about his vampire mistress only sealed it. That emotionless voice was the same voice I had used when my former master had mockingly asked me how I felt about his minions carving up my fiancée. With my will stripped from me, my emotions had been forcibly repressed. The dagger scars that marred my cheek now ached at the memory echoes of my ordeal.

“You do realize that the town is suspicious of how quickly you turned to Alva for comfort,” I said, deciding to get a final poke in.

The man spat to one side to show his opinion of the town, “The townspeople need to mind their own damned business. There's enough real troubles in the world without making new ones out of thin air. Now, if you’ll excuse me...” He turned back to the grindstone in a clear indication that the conversation was over.

I walked away from him, breathing deeply and holding onto the here and now with an effort of will. It had been fifteen years, but the memories still liked to sneak up on me and surprise me when I encountered a situation similar to mine. I had learned how to avoid being dragged into the morass of pain over time; if I let the memories flow over me and past me, like the current of a stream, they would subside. If I sank into them and let them replay the horrors moment by moment, I was a potential danger to anyone who touched me or got in my way. It only took a little bit for the tide to wane, but it also usually left my head, and my heart, aching.

Approaching the building that was clearly the Jarl’s Hall, I was surprised to see a small crowd of people shouting at a middle aged man who blocked the door. Eventually the crowd dispersed as the man blocking the door remained firm but non threatening.

By the time I got there, everyone had scattered, and only the man remained outside, watching to be sure everyone was leaving. He turned, spotted me, and visibly braced himself.

“What was that argument about?” I asked as soon as I could talk without yelling.

He grimaced, “Life in Morthal has been troubled lately. The people are uncertain, restless. They merely look to the Jarl for leadership.”

_That didn't look like leadership…_ I kept myself from frowning. _You were shooing away people who want their leader to get off their duff and act… You can’t keep that up forever._

Out loud, I simply asked, “What are they so uptight about?”

He sighed, “Strange noises have been heard in the marshes at night. And then, the tragedy with Hroggar's home. The men simply seek wisdom. Everything will be fine. Please just move along, or if you've business with the Jarl, I'd ask that you speak to me first.”

“Actually, I did come to see the Jarl. I heard she might be looking for someone to investigate Hroggar’s house.”

The man gave me a narrow eyed glance, “I do what I can to see that Idgrod's time isn't wasted, and that she only has to deal with important matters. What makes you so willing to approach the house that everyone else claims is cursed or haunted?”

“Ghosts don’t scare me, and I’ve faced down scarier things.” I reached up and brushed my hair back a bit, exposing the long scars left behind by my former vampire master. “My name is Lasirah.” I extended my hand warmly to him, and he clasped mine after a brief hesitation.

“Aslfur,” he returned. The man’s expression smoothed over as he met my eyes and seemed to like what he saw there, “I apologize for my rudeness, ma’am. The only thing that matters to me is keeping my wife safe. I won't let anyone harm her.”

I raised my right hand solemnly, and placed my other hand over my heart, “I swear upon Stendarr that I have no wish to harm your wife, as long as she returns the favor.”

A tiny magical tingle danced through me; Stendarr took such promises in his name seriously. Of course, since I had been just as serious as the Divine, I had nothing to fear.

Aslfur let out a breath he had obviously been holding, “I’m glad to hear it. Come in, then.”

The hall was decently lit, and I approached the throne where a middle aged Nord woman sat, her hair tied back in a way that was almost severe. But her expression hinted that her thoughts were on distant things rather than the here and now.

“Jarl Idgrod Ravencrone, may I present the sellsword, Lasirah.”

Her eyes, suddenly deep and piercing, rested on me as I approached, and her mouth twitched slightly in a small smile. “So, life has brought you to Morthal, and to me. What purpose this serves, well, I have gotten visions that suggest you will be very good for our town. Welcome.”

I paused briefly in surprise, “You have visions of things yet to come?”

“The Divines reveal things to me at times, yes. I do not hide this. It is a gift. Anyone who believes otherwise does not and cannot understand it.”

I nodded slowly, “What do you see about me?”

“You are cast in both light and shadow, dear girl, and you stand as a pillar of both. The two find common ground in your path through life.”

“That’s pretty accurate,” I replied with a small smile. “I heard at the inn that you could use some help into investigating that house fire.”

Idgrod’s gaze became intent, “You mean Hroggar's house fire? Yes. Hroggar blames his wife for spilling bear fat in the fire. Many folk think he set the fire himself.” She sighed sadly, “Lust can make a man do the unthinkable. The ashes were still warm when he pledged himself to Alva.”

“It wasn’t lust.”

Idgrod’s chin raised a bit and she frowned at me. “You sound awfully confident for someone who has only just come to this town.”

I nodded, “May we speak somewhere a bit more private, ma’am? This room… echoes. And my suspicions are not things that should be known beyond a limited number of ears.”

The older woman got to her feet and led me to a room off to the side. Aslfur followed, so that he could continue to protect his wife and Jarl. I didn't protest his presence and once the door closed, I looked at them both somberly.

“I am a vampire hunter,” I said without preamble, “I’ve been hunting and killing them for fifteen years now. I am sworn to do so, and my sword is specially designed to affect the undead specifically. Last night, Alva came into the inn and tried to… tempt Joanne. She showed all the hallmarks of being infected with vampirism. I also believe she enthralled Hroggar with her powers, and he might have been helpless to resist a direct order to kill is family.”

Aslfur scowled, “So, what? Do we just… drag Hroggar, a member of our community, into jail on your say-so? Run an axe through Alva’s neck or a sword through her chest on claims that a stranger knows these… signs? Respectfully Lasirah, what you are saying has incredible consequences, whether you are right or wrong.”

I held up my hands in supplication, “I know, I know. Believe me, I know. This isn’t my first trip into a Dwemer Citadel. This is why I wanted to talk to you in private, Jarl Idgrod.” I turned back to the Jarl, who had, so far, been listening quietly with her arms crossed. “If even a rumor springs up about vampires, people will burn this town to the ground to try to root them out. I want to investigate this, quietly if possible; I want to bring actual proof to light, not just my word.”

Idgrod met my eyes for a long moment, then slowly nodded at me, “It relieves me that you are both intelligent and circumspect about this. I think you might be able to find the truth for us. You can sift through the ashes that others are too fearful to touch. See what they tell you. Whatever you bring back, I will reward you.”

Leaving the Jarl’s Hall, I stepped out into a kind of watery afternoon sunlight. Taking a deep breath, I took a quick jaunt across the wooden walkway to the burnt house. The stink of burnt wood and... other things hit my nose right as I rounded the corner and brought the remains into sight.

_Yick. Every time someone talks about vampire hunting as if it were a great and noble adventure, I want to laugh myself sick._ I looked at the devastated remains of the house and closed my eyes briefly in sorrow. _The truth is a lot more tragic..._

The wooden floor of the house had burned through. The newly exposed earth and the partially remaining wooden walls bore a faint dusting of snow. There wasn’t a whole lot left intact to sift through; no furniture, no furs, wooden plates had burned as effectively as the house, and the metal tankards had been warped by the heat into lumps that clanked forlornly whenever I accidentally bumped one with my boot.

I worked slowly and systematically through the ashes heaped in every corner; the rest of the house seemed to be typical fire damage. Finally, I came to a stop at the infamous hearth. I peered into the empty space, noting how the soot blackened hearth lacked any sort of a splatter pattern. I couldn’t see how animal fat could be attributed to the fire, and Nord hearths were designed to make it difficult for fire to spread beyond it by pure accident. Even spilling two bowls of tallow in such a way to make a path for the flames to follow, the rim of the hearth would break the line, since the fire would have to spill over the edge onto something very flammable outside, and Nords tended to make a small stretch of stone between the rim of the hearth and the wooden floor for just that reason. The ever-popular bear-skin rugs that always lay before the fire were always kept beyond the edge of the stone.

_Thinking of which…_

I frowned at the blackened hearth, then prodded the residue. Burning wood made gray ash and black charcoal. This stuff should be light and flakey, and the hearth was pretty much snow-free. Animal fat left a greasy stain, but not this black… I could swear it was a piece of parchment soaked in sludge or mud of some sort. But parchment couldn’t have survived the fire as anything but tiny flakes of ash.

That suggested something had been used to accelerate the fire. Frowning, I scooped some of it onto a finger and rubbed the mixture between my fingers. It was black, greasy, and more prone to smearing than wiping up like wood ash. I cautiously sniffed my fingertips. Machine oil. I recognized the distinctive stench of the black stuff that the Dwemer used to make their automatons work.

The thin parchment-like remnant was badly damaged, but I was able to peel a bit of it out. It turned out to be too thick for paper, and as I peeled it up, it split and cracked, revealing a side that was bubbled and crispy. I got a nose full of a really foul smell. It stank of… of burnt fur.

I stared at the remnant in my hand. Someone had soaked the bear skin rug in machine oil and thrown it into the flames. The cooking fire would have roared to the ceiling, and oil fires only got worse when doused in water, assuming the family even had water on hand to try it.

This was no accident. Of course, I had already known that. But where could Hroggar have gone to get the stuff? Dwemer ruins were very hazardous, and getting the oil required destroying a dwemer automaton. Those things didn't go down easy, and the nearest ruin was a few day’s travel away in an entirely different hold. Buying it required finding someone who could sell it, and this place clearly didn't get many traveling merchants, if Joanne’s laments were to be believed. If, by the barest stroke of luck, a merchant would just happen to come to town and just happen to have dwemer oil, it would be both expensive and a distinctive purchase. I was certain that a merchant would be the talk of the town, as would be every purchase anyone ever made from them. No one had mentioned any such thing.

Someone had somehow gotten the oil into town some other way. There had to be outside forces at play here, and I didn't like it. One vampire was bad enough. Could there be others? Where could they hide?

A guard walked partway down the raised wooden path, saw me standing in the remains of the building, stared, and then turned away, shaking his head. A frog croaked loudly in protest to his clomping feet and landed in the water at the edge of the walkway with a splash.

The marsh. Of course. I doubted the townsfolk went exploring the marshes much. There could be an abandoned cabin or even a cave concealed by the eternal mists and perpetual shadows.

I blinked and looked around, noting that the sun was beginning to set. I had been as thorough as I could with what was left. I still didn't have much more than suspicions and a whole lot of other questions to ask, but maybe tomorrow I could…

A faint glow at the edge of my eyesight made my head whip around to a corner of what remained of the building. It was silvery white, and began to coalesce into the figure of a child.

_Morwha's bosom; I guess the building is haunted after all._ I thought, as the little figure looked around and then gazed straight at me.

“Who's there?” a little girl’s voice echoed faintly to my ears, “Is that you, father?”

“Uh, no, I’m not Hroggar. Who are you?” _I bet this is his daughter,_ I realized an instant later.

“My name’s Helgi. But father says I'm not supposed to talk to strangers. Are you a stranger?” She looked up at me; wide eyed, innocent, and unafraid.

I knelt down with as friendly a smile as I could muster, “No, but I'm a friend of his. Do you know what happened to your house?”

She stared down at her transparent feet, fiddling with the hem of her dress, “The smoke woke me up. It was hot and I was scared, so I hid. Then it got cold and dark.”

“Do you know who set the fire? Was it your father?” I tried to say this as gently as I could.

But the little girl shook her head vigorously, “No! Papa didn't do it!”

I let out a tiny breath of relief, “Did you see who did?”

The little figure shrank back, refusing to meet my eyes, “Yes.” She peeked at me sideways, shy and hopeful, “I'm lonely, and all mama can do is cry. Will you play with me?”

I looked around wildly, but no other figure coalesced out of the gathering gloom. I took a deep breath, “Sure. If I do, would you tell me who started the fire?”

She perked up, and I could just barely see her face transform into a happy smile, “Okay! Let's play hide and seek! You find me, and I'll tell you. We have to wait for full night time though. The other one is playing too, and she can't come out until then.”

I froze, “The other one? Who do you mean?”

She shook her head vigorously, “I can't tell you. She might hear me! She's so close! If you can find me first, I can tell you.” Her form wavered, then dissolved like mist, leaving me alone in the remains of the house.

The sun was now almost completely down, and long shadows had already stretched across the town. I turned and jogged out of the ruined house. I would go to the graveyard; where else would I look for a dead child?

Sure enough, one of the graves had been unearthed, revealing a child sized coffin. I touched the dirty wood softly, “Helgi?”

“Please! Make Laelette go away!” The child’s voice was terrified.

I drew Dawnbreaker in a single move and whipped around just in time to see a tall woman step out from behind the trees, her eyes glowing orange.

“Clever little human, but I’m afraid you’re not clever enough.” She held a dagger that glowed with a faint red shimmer, which matched the glow that swirled around her fingers. She extended her hand toward me and the light lanced out. I dodged, feeling it graze my shoulder. Immediately I felt some of my energy drain sharply from the glancing blow.

_Right. I bet that the dagger is enchanted with the same magic. Don’t give her a chance to recharge or stab you._

I dragged in a sharp breath and raised my blade. The holy light that blazed from the fist sized sunstone in the sword’s crossguard made Laelette hiss in pain and flinch back, breaking her concentration. I closed the distance between us with the shout of “For Meridia!” and plunged it through her chest.

There was a low roar, and flames blazed around me as the sword seared a hole clean through her torso. I yanked the blade free and stepped back, my hands tingling uncomfortably from the closeness of the incinerated vampire flesh.

Laelette dropped like a doll, her face a picture of shock.

I crept closer to her body to make sure, and yes, she was permanently dead. Vampires didn't come back from a hole the size of their own head burned through their rib cages and out the other side.

I could have reduced her to ash, but I didn't want that yet. I wanted to know who this Laelette was, and what part she had played. I rolled her onto her back, and looked at her closely. The paleness was still in the process of transitioning, so she was a new vampire. Very new. In fact, I would wager a hundred coins that she was younger than Alva.

Gently I touched the coffin again. “Helgi, honey? She’s gone.”

“Thank you!” The little girl’s voice wrapped around me in relief, though she didn’t appear. “Laelette was trying to find me too, but I'm glad you found me first. Laelette was told to burn our house down, but she didn't want to. She wanted to play with me forever and ever. She kissed me on the neck, and I got so cold that the fire didn't even hurt.”

I closed my eyes in sorrow. The child couldn’t have been more than ten when she had died.

She continued, her voice heavy with regret, “Laelette thought she could take me and keep me, but she can't. I'm all burned up. I'm tired... I’m gonna sleep for a while now.”

I let out a deeply tired sigh as silence descended. Vampires raised after the third day; Laelette had dug her up, clearly expecting Helgi to have risen. But the presence of Helgi’s ghost made it plain enough that she was well and truly dead. It was a cold comfort that I wouldn’t have to be the second person to kill the poor child.

A man came sprinting up the path to join me, holding a torch aloft. “What’s going on?” he demanded. “I heard the commotion.”

_And didn't come till it was nice and quiet again._ The snide thought was laced with the weariness that weighed down my soul.

A few steps closer, and his expression turned to one of shock, “By the gods! Laelette! She's dead!” He knelt down to cup the vampires cheek in tender hands and recoiled as he got a good look into her slack mouth. “Ysmir's beard! She's… she's a vampire!”

_Zeht's tears. I probably should have blocked him from getting too close._

“Who are you, and how do you know this Laelette woman?” I asked, trying to establish some control over the situation.

“My name is Thonnir, and Laelette was my wife.” His eyes were glued to the dead vampire’s face, the flickering light highlighting his deep sorrow. I blinked, and felt myself soften toward him. He continued, “One day she just… disappeared. I thought she had left to join the Stormcloaks. She always felt that we should fight to protect our home, since the Empire refuses to. Ah! My poor Laelette!”

Tears began to stream down his face.

I touched his shoulder softly, “Did you notice anything strange before she left?”

“She began to spend a lot of time with Alva. Yet just a week before, she had despised her. In fact, the night she disappeared, she was supposed to meet with Alva. Alva told me later that she never showed up.” His face crumpled and he began to weep in earnest now, “I never got to tell her goodbye.”

_Alva infected Laelette. When the transformation was complete, I’ll bet that she ordered Laelette to disappear. Probably sent her out to some compatriots out in the swamps._

“I think they may have met after all,” I kept my tone gentle. This was one of those less-than-glorious parts about being a vampire hunter; family members never liked hearing that their loved ones had been taken by the undead.

“You think Alva… but that means…” Horror warred with grief on his face, “Ye gods! You think Alva is a vampire?!”

“I don’t think, Thonnir. I know. I’ve been doing this for a very long time. I spotted the signs on Alva before I even encountered Laelette. Alva is an older vampire than Laelette, by a few months at least.”

“No! You're wrong! You must be wrong! My own neighbor, a vampire?!” His voice cracked in desperation. “We grew up together!”

“I’m sorry Thonnir, but whoever turned her into a vampire changed her from the woman you knew as a child. This isn’t something we can ignore. Alva has been approaching other villagers and trying to lure them into meetings with her.” I squeezed his shoulder as he stared down at the corpse of his wife.

“Alva… she approached me once, you know?” His voice had darkened with bitterness. “Me and Benor both. Offered to give us both a nice time. Benor refused to cuckold Hroggar, even if he was suspected of murder. I told her she was being too free with herself, that she should stick with one man at a time.” His hands clenched into fists, “She would have infected us?”

“I suspect so. Three days after your meeting, she would have had the two of you as vampires. You could have subdued your neighbors one by one…. Turned them into cattle for the others to feed upon, or else turned into vampires to prey upon their friends and loved ones.” The rage on his face made my thoughts scramble frantically for a plan that would keep the villagers from forming an unruly mob, at least for a few hours. “Thonnir, listen to me… Hroggar probably isn’t a willing slave to her, and I know he didn't kill his family. Can you subdue him without hurting him? He may still be able to be saved if he’s in a jail cell for a day.”

His dark gaze settled on me, rage, grief and fury seeming to be out of control for a moment. I met his gaze calmly and he slowly steadied his heavy breathing. “You mean… Hroggar is innocent?”

“He is,” I answered quickly and firmly. “You can save him from Alva. Be smart, be quick. Grab him when he’s apart from her. Get him into the guard house jail for a day. Make sure he can’t get out.”

Having a plan seemed to steady the grief-stricken man. “I’ll get Benor. The two of us can get him put away quickly and quietly. Benor wanted to be a member of the town guard. He can handle a struggling opponent, especially if I help. Go tell the Jarl what you know. She’ll want proof. Get it if you can! Hurry!”


	3. Chapter 3

I slid into the Jarl's hall and hurriedly explained the situation. My story was backed by two guards who went to the cemetery and confirmed Laelette's body and her status as a vampire. 

"I can get proof, and Thonnir is going to restrain Hroggar." I told Idgrod, "I just need your support so the guards don't beat me senseless for breaking into the home."

Idgrod nodded to the two guards, who immediately left again to spread a quiet word. "I hope you're right, Lasirah. If you're mistaken, I will not treat you lightly."

"I understand, Jarl Idgrod," I bowed lightly, left the hall, and slipped quickly and quietly through the shadows up to the house I had identified as Alva's earlier.

The sun had only been down for an hour or so. Gods, it already felt longer. The front door creaked open and I ducked back into the deep shadows cast by Alva's house and the guardhouse next to it.

Hroggar spoke warmly to Alva, "How are you feeling tonight?"

"I feel wonderful, just like every night." Alva chuckled.

"Do you need anything? Are you... hungry?" The two turned to walk past my hiding place, and Hroggar's voice was so eager to please that it made my stomach twist.

Alva spoke to him the way someone would speak to a loyal hound, "Oh Hroggar, you know I'm always hungry. Don't worry, I'll eat when I need to. Speaking of which... I don't like that newcomer who's snooping about. I'm going to the inn to see if I can… persuade her to go on a nightly stroll with me. Now be a dear, won't you? Walk the perimeter of the town; if you see her, come fetch me. Together, I think we can make sure she doesn't ask any more… inappropriate questions."

"Of course, my mistress," his tone suggested that he would pine like a love-struck poet for every last one of those few minutes that they were apart.

"Shush. None of that where others can hear you, dear. Now be off with you."

I held my stomach down by sheer effort of will, reminding myself that I had a job to do, and if I pulled it off, Hroggar would be freed. I watched them separate in front of the Jarl's hall; Alva heading for the inn, Hroggar turning to circle behind the hall and into the darkness on a not-quite-casual walk. Two large figures silently pursued him into the shadows.

I needed to move. Time was suddenly rather short. When Alva found out I wasn't at the inn, and Hroggar didn't come in to meet with her… well… who knew how long she'd wait for him before she went into high alert?

I crept onto her porch. I had heard Alva's door close, but hadn't heard the click of the lock. Hoping against hope, I tried the door, which opened easily under my hand. _Divines bless small towns, where nobody locks their doors!_

I slid inside. It largely consisted of a single open room, organized for everything the home needed. The hearth, with its customary Nordic decoration of a bear-skin rug, kept appropriately away from the dangers of embers. A table with a small assortment of food. A bed with a wardrobe and chest nearby.

What drew me onward was the stairwell leading underground. In a normal house, this would be the basement where food stores for the winter would be kept. Since this was a vampire's house, well, it would absolutely be in use for one purpose, and one purpose only; her coffin.

She hadn't even tried to conceal it. The basement was otherwise completely empty, and the coffin was laid in the center of the room like a centerpiece. A leatherbound journal was the only other object in the room. I did a quick page through it; blessing the Divines that I could read quickly. The entries were very short; Alva was not one to go into details.

.

**My life is dreary. When will my prince come to rescue me? Where is my bold Nord warrior to sweep me off my feet? I yearn for something more than this dismal swamp where nothing ever happens.**

**I met a man today when picking night flowers. He is exciting and exotic. We kissed in the moonlight. It was so romantic. I'm going to see him again tonight.**

**Now I understand the true colors of the night. Movarth has shown me the true black of night and the true red of blood. He has promised me a feast of blood if I do his bidding in Morthal. He has given me my first task; a small test to prove my new loyalties to him.**

**Laelette came to visit me tonight; she's such a fool. She never liked me, but she came willingly enough to my home. She slaked my thirst. I've hidden her away to let her rise as my handmaiden. I've spread the rumor in town that she left to join the war. They believed that lie. Fools.**

**I have proven myself to Movarth, and he has confided his grand plan to me. I am to seduce the strongest of the men and the guards one at a time and turn them. As I am their maker, they will be my subordinates. They will help keep the weaker humans in line so that he and the others from the brood can descend upon Morthal and take the entire town. They will become thralls and cattle for our thirst; an endless supply of blood and an entire town to protect us from the cursed sun.**

**Movarth said I should find a protector soon; someone to watch over my coffin during the day. Hroggar is perfect; he succumbed almost instantly to Vampire Seduction. I can renew it every night, shortly before dawn. However, Hroggar's family is inconvenient.**

**I've told Laelette to destroy their home, but to make it look like an accident. Hroggar must send them away for a while if he is going to be my protector.**

**That little fool! Laelette burned his family alive! I told her to use only a small amount of the oil! The family could have gotten out and Hroggar could have sent them away for a few months. Now everyone thinks Hroggar killed them! I asked for an accident and she gave me a scandal! To make matters worse, she tried to turn his little girl, Helgi. Except she couldn't even get that right! She left the body to burn.**

**Something is wrong with Laelette. She keeps talking about Helgi. I think her mind has snapped. She seems to think that the child can still be brought back to be her companion. Her incompetence made sure that won't happen, but she refuses to leave well enough alone. The townsfolk won't appreciate finding the child's corpse being dug up! And if she's seen...**

**There is a stranger in town, looking into the fire. She's asking a lot of inconvenient questions. She even questioned my Hroggar. I'm glad he is completely under my control and gave her nothing, but she's far too familiar with vampires. I'll have to silence her, one way or another.**

.

Closing the journal, I sprinted out of Alva's house and straight to the Jarl's hall.

Jarl Idgrod paged through the journal, "So it's true. That traitorous bitch!" She slammed the journal closed and looked at me solemnly, "Morthal owes you a debt. Here." She handed me a hefty sack of coins. "I'm afraid I need one more favor from you. Morthal is still in danger. The journal mentions Movarth, a master vampire I thought was destroyed a century ago."

"That was always my intention, ma'am. I hunt them. I know how to kill them. And I swore to Stendarr to purge them. I just need to locate the lair."

Idgrod smiled thinly, "I know where they'll most likely be hiding. There's a small cave system to the northeast of the town. We keep the path from getting too overgrown. It's been about a decade since the swamps have flooded enough to force us to abandon our homes, but it would be perfect for a bunch of vampires to hide in."

"Then that's where I'll go. Thank you, Jarl Idgrod."

She watched me with knowing eyes, "Thonnir and Bennor have reported to me that they have Hroggar locked up in jail. They say you mentioned that he could be freed from Alva's influence, so that's the best place for him for now. I've told them to gather as many able-bodied men as they can rouse to clean out Movarth's lair. They'll be waiting outside for you to lead them."

I hesitated, "Ma'am, I'm not sure that's such a good idea. Vampires are dangerous. One bite, and we'll only have three days to get enough potions of Cure Disease made before they turn."

"We have an alchemist, and she has supplies," Jarl Idgrod gestured somewhat dismissively.

A group of men had gathered outside, with Thonnir at the front. I bit my lip worriedly. I worked alone; I was experienced with stealth, and these were all villagers with only minimal training to defend against the occasional wolf or sabrecat. There was no way they would have the prowess to handle the whole brood.

"You want to help me kill the vampires?" I called out, wondering if I could manage to lead these people with any sort of competence.

There was a roar of assent.

Thonnir added, "I want vengeance for my wife! Vengeance for Laelette! We're marching on Movarth's Lair!"

There was another roar of agreement. _Oh yes, this feels like a_ ** _really_** _good idea..._

As the crowd turned, a shout went up that was much more enthusiastic and I looked ahead to see Alva on the road in front of the inn, looking in wide-eyed alarm at the group of enraged men wielding swords and torches. However strong a vampire may be, just about anyone's survival instincts say to flee from an angry mob. Alva followed that instinct, and the men set off in pursuit like a pack of hounds on the trail of a deer…. and with about as much noise.

I broke into a run, keeping up with the group, and wondering if we were going to alert the whole swamp before we ever saw combat. This was why I worked alone, damn it!

Alva followed the clearly defined path, past a bunch of now-blood-splattered marker stones that led right up to the cave entrance. Alva plunged inside, and the pursuing mob abruptly skidded to a collective stop at the entrance. As I came abreast of them, I could hear uneasy muttering as they stared at the cave entrance, liberally marked in blood splatters from the vampires marking their new territory. I could also see bloodstained bones scattered around that indicated that the few travelers who found this swamp, usually never actually made it to town.

"Um… this place has gotten creepy," one of them muttered, "I can smell the death in that place."

"And it's full of vampires?" another half squeaked, "I'm not so sure about this…"

Thonnir snapped, "Cowards! We must kill the vampires! We have to make them pay!"

The crowd milled around uneasily.

"Sure, sure," someone finally agreed in a mollifying tone, "But why not let **her** go first?" He gestured at me without looking me in the eyes, "I mean, she is the one who knows all about vampires and all."

I snorted, drew my bow, and strode past the lot of them with a cool confidence.

"That woman is more Nord than any of you," I heard Thonnir growl in disgust as I descended into the darkness.

I snorted to myself. _As a Redguard, should I be insulted or amused?_

His footsteps were quiet behind me and soon he was at my shoulder, "They may be cowards, but I'm not. I'll go with you."

I nodded curtly, "Be welcome, but be careful, Thonnir. Don't just rush in with a battle cry; vampires don't deserve the honor of open, Nord combat. In fact, it could get you killed: so strike quickly, and quietly."

"Then I'll follow your lead," he promised, as we descended into the caves.


	4. Chapter 4

We followed the tunnel and came to a ramp down into the depths. Two frostbite spiders the size of ponies met us on the way down. Oftentimes, even the hardiest Nord fighter can find himself a quivering boy before something crawling around on too many legs. Bless the Divines, Thonnir did not have that weakness. He launched himself down upon one of the spiders and buried his war axe into what counted as the spider’s head. The second one succumbed to a pair of my arrows through the spot where its eyes clustered.

Once we were sure that the other was all right, we continued. Through a tunnel and into another room, we found a man sitting alone at a table next to a tunnel entrance; a supposed lookout. This was no vampire; this was a thrall, and he wasn’t accustomed to guard duty. His back was to the entrance as he bit into half a loaf of bread. A meal break apparently meant not being fully on duty.

There was no sign of Alva here; she had probably bolted past, seeing no use in a single thrall that wasn’t obedient to her commands.

“What do we do with that one?” Thonnir breathed.

“He’s under their control. We’ll have to knock him out,” I breathed back.

Thonnir nodded. Moving surprisingly quietly for a man of his solid build, he crossed the distance in a few strides and dropped the man with a single blow.

We lay the man down before tying his wrists and hobbling his ankles. Once we were sure that he was secure, we moved through the tunnel into yet another room.

Here, we found a second thrall stripping the bodies of two people of all their valuables and dropping them into a pit dug into the earth.

This man too dropped like a stone at Thonnir’s experienced blow.

I had to admit it: Thonnir knew how to handle himself against a human. Now I just had to hope that he could also handle himself against a vampire.

I warned him, “Vampires can cast a spell that drains your energy. Watch out for glowy stuff.”

He nodded.

We found a short tunnel that led to a room that had been set with a long dining table where multiple vampires were seated, but everyone’s attention was focused on Alva, who was explaining in frantic gasps of breath that a mob of villagers was on their way.

The man at the head of the table, an ancient vampire with more wrinkles than a walnut shell, cocked his head in dismissive exasperation as Alva tried to warn him. He had been a middle aged Breton when he had turned, and his receding hairline had left him bald on top, with thin hair wrapped around the back of his head like an elderly monk. Unusually tall for a Breton, his features were heavy and almost primitive; a low, heavy brow and an almost ridiculously large nose were set above thin lips and a perpetually scowling mouth. His eyes were deeply sunken in their reddened sockets, and his face was deeply lined. He was suffering from a long stint of poor blood supply. Small wonder he wanted an entire village to feed himself, much less the six or so subordinates that joined him at the long table.

“My dear girl, you really are a fool. A bunch of untrained villagers is no match for-”

“No!” Alva desperately tried to interrupt, “One of them is a…”

The ancient vampire slapped her lightly across the face, silencing her with the shock of it, rather than the impact. “You are new,” his voice was cold, “so I will forgive your insolence and chalk it up to inexperience. You do not interrupt me when I am speaking. And your cowardice speaks ill of your supposed Nord heritage. Few humans are a match for vampires of my experience; I have survived for fifteen-hundred years, and no human can face me in mortal combat and win.”

I drew my bow and tried to get a clean shot, but Movarth was seated at the head of the table, and ultimately at the farthest point away from me. Macabre decorations interfered with my line of sight, so I waited.

Movarth rose to his feet, “My children,” he drawled, “our dear Alva says that a bunch of humans are coming to greet us. Shall we welcome our guests to the first feast of the evening?”

Low cheers and mocking laughter rose from the vampires. Distracted by the thought of juicy mortals, the last thing any of them expected was the sound of a twanging bowstring. With a hiss, the arrow cut through the air and punched through Movarth’s chest with a really nasty sound, before erupting out the back. Dark vampire blood sprayed the backrest of Movarth’s throne-like chair, and the ancient vampire stared in stunned disbelief at the shaft of wood, before slowly slumping forward until he was face down in his bloodied plate, unmoving.

There was a moment of shocked immobility from the rest of the vampires, giving me time to slay a second with another well placed shaft. Thonnir charged into the room silently, rushing the nearest vampire and beheading him with a sweep of his sword before impaling a second. Dawnbreaker soon added to the carnage, setting several vampires alight. Some collapsed immediately; others went up in flames, screaming.

I caught a brief flash of a female vampire turning on Alva; “You led a vampire hunter straight to us, you bitch!”

Alva went down with a long knife through her heart, an expression of stunned bewilderment on her face. I turned to chop the hands off of a vampire who was trying to drain me, and the fight quickly devolved into chaos.

Silence eventually fell, and Thonnir and I slowly straightened and met the other’s eyes. Nodding to one another to reassure that we were unhurt, we turned to the body of Movarth. Taking no chances, I rammed Dawnbreaker through Movarth’s torso and held it there for a few seconds. There was a burst of fire, and the ancient vampire was soon reduced to blue-white ash. 

“Come back from **that** , you blood sucking son of a skeever,” I panted.

“Do you think that’s all of them?” Thonnir asked.

“Maybe, maybe not. There are a few tunnels we need to check and clear. We don’t want any of them to run off and rebuild for a second try at the village.”

Thonnir’s expression darkened and he nodded. We cleared the caves systematically, surprising one vampire, who had been eating an unidentifiable lump of flesh in a satellite cave, and downing a few more thralls who had launched themselves at us, raging and weeping uncontrollably now that their masters lay dead.

Thonnir let out a long breath when we confirmed that the deed was done, “Right. Let’s get these poor people into jail cells. I’m sure the rest of those cowards can at least help clean up now that the danger is gone.”

Heading back up the ramp, the Nord made a strangled sound of shock at the sight of a silvery figure of a child.

“Helgi,” I half whispered the name, feeling my throat tighten.

“Alva and Laelette are gone,” the little girl’s voice was tired but joyous, “You brought our killers to justice!”

“I’m glad I could bring you peace, sweetheart,” I managed a somewhat wobbly smile.

“Mother’s not crying anymore. Thanks for making her feel better.” The little girl’s head turned to the side. “Oh, she’s calling me! It's time for me to sleep now... I'm so tired. Tell poppa that we’ll be waiting for him when his time comes.”

The small figure dissipated into silvery mist, and was gone.

I bowed my head in grief, halfheartedly punching the wall of the tunnel with my fist. This was one of the painful moments. No matter how many vampires I slew, no matter how many lives I saved, it was always the ones that I couldn’t save that hit the hardest. The little girl would never live the life she should have.

Thonnir was silent behind me for a long moment, then cleared his throat with difficulty. His voice was subdued, “I think I can see why you do this work, Lasirah. You have my utmost respect.”

Cleaning the cave of bodies took the entire rest of the night, even with a team of strong villagers able to help. Three carts laden with blood stained bones were found tucked in a distant corner. Several of the men made shocked, saddened sounds as the carts were wheeled into place before them for the long haul out of the cave. The villagers were getting a dose of the dark reality; Movarth’s vampires were the reason why so few outsiders had made it to Morthal lately. 

There was no way to identify these stripped skeletons unless their relatives came searching. With the civil war in full swing, that was incredibly unlikely. Families would need the money to go from town to town for rumors of their family’s travels, and the roads were unsafe for anyone but the hardiest and scrappiest of fighters. Most wouldn’t have the funds, much less the fighting skills necessary. The bodies would have to be buried in unmarked graves, and their loved ones would likely simply have to accept that they were dead, without knowing how or why.

I gritted my teeth. So many people had died, all because no one here had had the slightest inkling of what vampires could do. Not one villager had batted an eye at Alva’s glowing eyes. No one had known what to look for, and I knew that I couldn’t justify leaving without giving these people a bit of an education.

My next step was to go to the town’s jail and confront Hroggar. This was going to be quite a show.


	5. Chapter 5

By the time the lot of us had trooped back into town, the sun was just barely a lightening of the horizon. Jarl Idgrod met me at the entrance to the jail, her housecarl and steward in attendance, as well as several guards standing at attention.

“Well my dear, it seems Morthall owes you yet another debt. I’m sorry we cannot offer you more,” she pressed another sack of coins into my hands.

“Shall we introduce Hroggar to the headsman’s axe?” one of the guards growled.

“No,” I interrupted before the Jarl could. “He didn't cause the fire, and he was enslaved by the vampire. He should return to himself before dawn.”

“I am very much interested to see this happen, so that we may be able to spot the signs in the future,” Idgrod supplied.

I let out a long, relieved breath and nodded, “This will be quite the show. Let’s get the rest of these poor people into cells for a while too.”

“Oh, thank the gods you’re here, Jarl.” One of the guards said, as soon as we were through the door. “Hroggar suddenly went crazy a few hours ago. He started screaming for Alva and shouting obscenities at us, demanding to be let go.”

“Alva is dead,” I told the guard, knowing that Hroggar could overhear, “One of the other vampires killed her.”

This was confirmed by a loud sob deeper in the jail, followed by brokenhearted weeping as we made our way through. We paused only to get the rest of the thralls into cells, where they would be contained safely. Soon we were standing outside of Hroggar’s cell.

“When a vampire enthralls a person,” I explained, “The person loses all sense of free will. They are wholly and totally obedient to that vampire, to the point of doting servility. A vampire can usually only control a single thrall, as they can only cast Vampire Seduction once a day. Only those who are very, very old, or else were once very powerful mages in their lives, can control more than one.” I made a face at a dark memory and pushed it aside to continue, “They usually behave as a lover would, all but worshiping the vampire, which stokes their ego plenty. When the vampire dies, the reins of servitude are dropped, though the person still stays enthralled.”

“So when Hroggar went crazy…” Idgrod started.

“Exactly. That was the moment when Alva died. He’s still devoted to her. If I had been the one to kill her, he would attack me on sight. He would do his utmost to kill me. There’s also the possibility that he would commit suicide to follow his beloved mistress. That’s why they’re all jailed right now.” I gave a cursory nod at the other jail cells.

The man looked utterly heartbroken, curled in a fetal position against the bars of the cell. “Alva,” he whimpered in anguish, “my mistress. Oh, what have those fiends done to you?”

“Hroggar, I saw the ghost of your daughter, Helgi.” I said to the man.

Several guards made signs of protection.

“Oh did you,” he muttered with chilling indifference. “That’s nice.”

“She was your daughter. Don’t you care?” I knew he didn't. Not at the moment anyway. But I wanted the townsfolk to have a ‘before’ and ‘after’ comparison of a person under the thrall of a vampire.

“Helgi is dead, and I had Alva to take care of.” His face twisted with grief yet again. “Oh Alva…”

He wouldn’t say anything more for a few minutes. People were just starting to shift restlessly, when a subtle, magical tension began to swell in the room, and then with a soft pop and a faint flash of aqua colored light, Alva’s spell on Hroggar broke.

The weeping stopped as though a switch had been thrown. Hroggar surged to his feet with a roar. “Laelette! You skeever-hearted bitch! You murdered my wife and daughter!” Seizing the chair he had been sitting in, he swung it with all his strength at the stone wall behind him, shattering it to splinters.

The guards all jumped in shock, and even the Jarl flinched at the rage and the force of the blow.

Hroggar stood, heaving several breaths before slumping to his knees among the shattered splinters of wood. “My beautiful wife… my sweet Helgi. Alva and those damned bloodsuckers… They… they took them from me. I was nothing but livestock to them. My family were nothing more than stained rags to be disposed of...”

“Hroggar,” I spoke his name gently, “Welcome back.”

The man lurched to his feet and crossed the distance between us in a few quick strides. Reaching through the bars, he cradled my hands in his own calloused ones, “Lasirah! Bless the Divines for you! We were...” His face paled, “Gods, we were going to…”

I freed one hand to gently touch his lips with a finger, “I’ve been hunting vampires for a long time, good sir. I have a pretty good idea of what you would have done. You don’t have to say it out loud.”

“Thank you for saving me from Alva,” he spoke behind the gentle finger, and I removed it. “I was completely under her evil spell. I'll never forgive myself for succumbing to that bitch’s magic, or for what happened to Helgi and my wife.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” I reassured him, careful to speak loud enough for the witnesses to hear. “It takes literally seconds for the spell to take control; even if you fight it with all your might, most can’t even resist for longer than a minute.”

“I can definitely see the difference in behavior,” came the comment, and I looked up to see a Redguard in a mage’s cloak, leaning against a corner of the hallway.

This had to be Jonna’s brother: Falion. Apparently he had joined us at some point to view the proceedings personally.

Suddenly there was another sense of rising tension, and another magical pop. There was a shout of rage and then a stream of cursing. Then another. And another, as all the thralls were released. A few pieces of jail furniture were demolished, and I learned some new profanities in the span of a few minutes. There was a cacophony of noisy chaos before things calmed down. One of these days, I would have to find out what a “goat sucker” had to do with vampirism.

Falion caught my arm gently as the racket distracted everyone else. He leaned close to my ear, “After you get some sleep in the inn, I would like to talk to you.”

I nodded to show I understood, and he released me before carefully maneuvering his way out.

Although exhaustion pulled at me, I vetted every former thrall, and the guards released them one by one. “That burst of anger, swearing, and violence is normal for people coming out of their enthrallment,” I informed them, “It’s another reason why you want to put them in a cell. Once they’ve taken a few breaths of freedom, they’re safe to let go.”

The town could help these people get back on their feet, though Jonna would probably have a rather busy inn for a few days. As someone who spent all day and all night awake, my own room at the inn called me into the embracing arms of sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

The inn was full when I woke up late in the afternoon. Jonna was bustling around with an expression of pure joy on her face. She had business, and apparently after cleaning out the cave, most of them had found their possessions and loose septims from previous thralls. Despite her being in constant motion, she brought me my food almost as soon as I ordered, and I was able to perk up a little bit.

“Your knowledge of vampires and their thralls is quite impressive,” Falion said by way of greeting as he joined me at the counter.

“Thank you. It’s taken years to get this far, though.” I dipped my bread into the stew and tore off a bit. “You’re Joanna’s brother, right? You wanted to talk to me?”

“It’s nice to meet someone who gets right to the point,” Falion gave me a small smile and tugged his hood back so we could look each other in the eyes.

He had a long, narrow face, a pointed chin, and high cheekbones. He kept himself clean-shaven; unusual for a Redguard. His eyes were a dark brown, but clear, and intelligent. “I wanted to thank you for what you did for this town. I came to Morthal because my talents are needed here, in order to keep the town and its citizens... safe.”

I frowned at my plate before stabbing a piece of beef with my fork, “Forgive me Falion, but I can’t help but be a little skeptical. How did the vampires get a foothold here if you’ve been putting your efforts into protecting this place?”

The man sighed deeply, “Unfortunately, I am but one man, and my conjuration magic doesn’t exactly sit well with the Nords. I have lost count of the times I have overheard someone gossiping that I sacrifice children, or eat the hearts of the dead. Neither of these rumours could be further from the truth, but they persist. No one will even stand still long enough to speak to me, much less listen to my warnings.”

I nodded slowly, “Jarl Idgrod supports you.”

His expression softened, “Aye, that she does. It is because of her that I can continue to work my magic in peace. I have managed to defend our town from numerous beastial threats, but unfortunately, the vampires are harder to stop than a beast. To the villagers, if it looks like a man, walks like a man, and talks like a man, then it is a man. I am still a stranger here, and these people know their neighbors too well to just… take my word that the person they’ve known since childhood is suddenly an undead fiend.”

“And then I come striding into town and bash the whole thing wide open in just a couple of days,” I shook my head wryly. “I’m surprised you’re not jealous of me for that.”

“No!” Falion burst out vehemently, “No, no! Never think that I am not grateful to you! You managed what I was unable to. Saving the lives of these people is far more important than a bit of pride on my part.”

We were silent for a moment, eating a few bites of food and taking sips of our mead.

Finally he cleared his throat and said something that he had clearly been working up to, “Listen, I wanted to talk to you, because I see a bit of a kindred spirit in your eyes.”

“I’m afraid I don’t share your breadth and depth of knowledge about magic,” I demurred politely.

“I care very little about your lack of knowledge in magic,” he waved his hand dismissively. “I am referring to your knowledge about vampires. There is a tidbit of knowledge that I would like to give you.”

I sat up a little straighter and gave him my full attention.

“I know many things,” he confessed. “I have studied things beyond the reach of most humans, traveled the Oblivion planes, seen things one should not see. I have met Daedra and Dwemer and everything in between. I met several vampires during my studies of life-extending magics. I even considered becoming a vampire myself. But in the end, I realized that vampirism would have endangered Agni and Joanna, which would defeat the intended purpose.”

I held back a horrified shudder, and asked, “Agni?”

Gentle affection softened his normally guarded expression, “My ward, and my apprentice; a ten year old Nord child who lost both of her parents years ago. I took her in and began teaching her magic. She’s… the daughter I will likely never have otherwise. I love her, and she is a brilliant child. I could not, in good conscience, risk her life in my own pursuit of knowledge.”

“And that pursuit included vampires,” I murmured thoughtfully.

“I know more than just how to hunt them, or recognize them.” Falion looked around quickly and then leaned close to me. With his lips nearly brushing my ear, he whispered, “I know a cure for vampirism. Not the pre-death infection, but full blown, dead-and-raised vampirism.”

I sat, frozen and wide-eyed. Slowly, feeling the weight of every word, I turned to him and murmured, “I thought the only cure was a final death!”

He looked relieved that I was taking him seriously, but his voice remained low, “No. It is possible. I know of a ritual but I've never performed it. The cost is… very high, and it has been kept a secret to prevent people from abusing it. It requires you to fill a black soul gem.”

“A… black soul gem?” I had never held much interest in the field of conjuration, but soul gems were fairly common. It was pretty common knowledge that they were used in enchanting, but they tended to be pale purple or blue-white in color. “I’ve never heard of them before.”

Falion took a sudden, deep quaff of mead before staring into the depths of his tankard. His expression was troubled, and he seemed to be gathering his courage to say something out loud, “Lasirah, listen to me, and listen very closely, because this is something that isn’t really talked about much outside of necromancy. You’ll understand why in a minute. Every creature, living or dead, is powered by a soul. The souls of lesser creatures are all categorized as white souls; they are not intelligent, as you or I.”

I felt my mouth go dry, and had to drink a deep draft of my own mead before I could say. “Then a black soul is…”

Falion nodded slowly at my expression, and said, “That’s right. Men, Mer, Argonians, Khajiit, and Dremora. In short: **people** have black souls. Black souls cannot be contained in a regular soul gem; hence, black soul gem.”

I closed my eyes and took several slow, deep breaths, “So in order to cure a vampire, we would have to murder someone.”

“You would have to cast a spell that will Soul Trap them and then murder them,” Falion corrected. “Then you would have to bring it to me. With it, I can perform the ritual and bring life back to the vampire’s body. You understand that I am telling you this out of trust that you understand how steep the price is, and that the cure cannot be offered lightly.”

I shook my head vigorously, “Someone would have to be really vile for me to do something like that to them.” I was silent for a long moment then asked, half afraid of the answer, “Why do we need to use someone else’s soul to cure vampirism?”

Falion gave me a very grim smile, “Magic always has a cost. Most require magicka, an energy that mages generate; a power from their own bodies, that recuperates over time the same way someone makes energy to run, or fight. These spells, such as a fireball spell, are always short lived and have immediate effects. In the case of enchanting an object to have a magical effect, you need a great deal more power because the effect must last longer, so souls are required. Naturally, that’s where the white souls come in, as it has less impact upon a mage’s morals and causes a lot less… hostility… to use the spirit of a wolf or bear than that of your neighbor’s kinfolk. However, when I cure vampirism, I will be using a very powerful ritual on a sentient person, so the exchange must be something of equal power.”

I bit my lip and nodded slowly, and seriously, “I will keep it in mind.”

Falion looked deep into my eyes, and then relaxed, “I am glad that telling you wasn’t a mistake, Lasirah. I believe your work is very important, and I believe that you should be fully knowledgeable to do your job. I’m glad I could trust you with this knowledge, and I believe --should you need my aid in curing someone-- that you will think very carefully on it before bringing it up to that vampire.”

I gave his shoulder a companionable squeeze and we ate the rest of our meal in contented silence.


	7. Epilogue

Jarl Idgrod’s dark eyes rested on mine with that half drifting, half piercing gaze I was starting to get used to. “Lasirah, I know I have said this before, but Morthal is grateful to you for all you have done. If I didn’t know that your future lay elsewhere, I would offer to make you my thane.”

I gave the Jarl a small smile, “Thank you for the offer, ma’am, but I have to be on my way.” I bowed politely to her and turned to head out the door.

She paused and then called out, a little tentatively, “Lasirah?”

“Yes ma’am?” My hand was on the doorknob but didn’t open it yet.

She rose from her throne and approached me slowly, her expression serious. “I fear dark days approach and all of your strength will be needed. Please… Tread wisely in your days ahead… I fear something sinister lies on your horizon.”

I let my hand slide off the doorknob and gave her my full attention, “Is there something in your visions that I should know about?”

“If it were that clear, I would happily tell you. As it is, I know only that a great darkness lies before you, beyond the borders of our town. Remember your promises. All of them. Remember what you have sworn, and to whom.”

I gave her a crooked grin, “I sincerely hope that I won’t let you, or them, down, ma’am.”

She sighed a little, “I hope so as well. Go to the east of Riften. There’s a tunnel entrance there. Within you will find a relic of an age long since past: Fort Dawnguard. That is where you shall begin your true path.”

I dipped my head to her in respect, “Thank you, Jarl Idgrod.”

She gave me a slight, enigmatic smile, “One final thing.” She drew a ceremonial dagger.

I gave it a mild look, but had no reason to be afraid as the Jarl closed the distance between us.

Lightly, she tapped each of my shoulders with the flat of her blade before resting it gently against my forehead, “You shall now be known as Lasirah, Warden of Dawn. May your blade be but one of many Dawns that you bring upon the world.”

 _Lasirah, Warden of Dawn._ I liked that. Bowing much more deeply to the Jarl, I took my leave and began the week long trip to Fort Dawnguard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this little prequel! Lasirah's next adventure is on its way!


End file.
